Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
I grab my camera without thinking, my fingers tightening around it like it is something solid, something real, something that can keep me grounded when everything else feels like it is slipping.
I move toward the window, instinct pulling me forward, and then I stop.
Backlit.
His voice echoes in my head, steady and certain.
Step away from the window.
I glare at the glass anyway, my jaw tightening, but I do not step closer.
I hate that I listen to him.
I hate even more that he is usually right.
Another sound cuts through the dark, closer this time, and my pulse jumps as I strain to hear, forcing myself to stay still long enough to make sense of it.
Then I hear voices.
Male.
Low.
More than one.
My stomach drops.
That is new.
That is not just him.
I move before I can think better of it, grabbing the handle and unlocking the door in one quick motion, the decision made before doubt has a chance to catch up with me.
Cold air hits me the second I step onto the porch, sharp and biting, pulling a breath from my lungs.
“Ethan?” I call.
Boots crunch somewhere in the distance.
More than one set.
Shadows shift between the trees, larger now, broader, no longer trying to stay hidden as they move toward the cabin.
My pulse spikes hard enough that I feel it in my throat.
“Ethan.”
He steps into view first.
Of course he does.
Controlled. Focused. Moving like nothing out there could touch him.
But something about him is different now, something tighter, more sharpened, like whatever he found out there has locked into place inside him.
And behind him, more men emerge from the trees, spilling into the open like the mountain itself sent them.
They are big, solid, quiet in a way that feels intentional, like they know exactly how to move without being heard.
Dangerous.
I take a step back without meaning to.
Ethan notices immediately, his gaze snapping to me.
“Inside,” he says.
“I’m not—”
“Inside.”
The edge in his voice cuts through everything else, and this time I do not argue.
I step back into the cabin as they approach, my eyes tracking each of them as they come into the light, taking them in one by one.
One is tall with sharp, assessing eyes, scanning the space like he is already mapping it in his head.
Another is broader, heavier, with a half-smirk that feels like he already knows something I do not.
A third is lean and watchful, his gaze flicking between me and Ethan like he is putting something together piece by piece.
And then more follow, each one carrying that same quiet, controlled energy that tells me they belong out there in the dark just as much as they do in here.
“Damn,” one of them mutters as he steps inside, his gaze landing squarely on me. “You weren’t kidding.”
I cross my arms instinctively. “About what?”
His mouth curves. “Trouble.”
I glare at him. “That seems to be the theme.”
A low chuckle moves through the room, but it fades quickly as Ethan steps in behind them and shuts the door with a solid thud.
“Focus,” he says.
The word lands like a command, and the shift is immediate.
The man with the sharp eyes nods once. “Tracks?”
“East ridge,” Ethan replies. “Moving in tighter.”
“How close?” another asks.
“Close enough.”
Silence follows, heavy and purposeful, and I watch them, trying to piece it together, trying to understand what I have just stepped into.
This is not casual.
This is not a favor.
This is something else entirely.
A unit.
“Who are they?” I ask.
Ethan’s gaze flicks to me. “Backup.”
“That’s not an answer.”
The one with the smirk steps forward, offering his hand. “Hudson.”
I do not take it.
He does not seem offended.
“Flint,” the sharp-eyed one adds with a short nod.
“Zane.”
“Slate.”
They introduce themselves like this is normal, like men walking out of the woods in the middle of the night is something I should not question.
I glance at Ethan. “You always call in an army?”
“Only when it matters.”
That answer lands differently this time.
He is not just talking about the threat.
I can feel it.
Hudson leans toward Flint, not lowering his voice enough to keep it private. “You feel that?”
Flint does not look away from Ethan. “Yeah.”
“Interesting,” Ethan adds, his gaze flicking between us.
My brows pull together. “Feel what?”
No one answers.
Of course they do not.
Ethan steps forward, cutting through it. “She stays inside.”
My head snaps toward him. “Excuse me?”
Hudson’s mouth twitches, Flint’s gaze sharpens, and the others notice everything, every shift in tone, every look that passes between us.
“She stays inside,” Ethan repeats.
“I’m right here,” I snap. “You can talk to me.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not. You’re making decisions for me.”
His eyes lock on mine, steady and unyielding. “Because you’re not thinking clearly.”
Anger flares fast and sharp. “I’m thinking just fine.”
“Then act like it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I fire back. “Did I miss the part where I asked you to take over my life?”
The room goes quiet, too quiet, and I feel all of them watching now, not the woods, not the threat, but us.